by Dean Mayes
Ruby didn’t respond. She was frozen on the spot.
Forcing herself to think, Ruby sprang to her feet and hugged the violin close to her chest. The torch light remained trained on her, disorienting her and feeding her panic.
The figure lumbered forward. Ruby abandoned her school bag and she turned to bolt, but she immediately crashed into a second person who was wielding his own torchlight. She was sent sprawling and her violin was pitched from her arms.
Ruby scrambled across the ground in an effort to escape but the second security guard was on her in a flash, clasping her shoulder with a vice-like hand.
“Not so fast!” the guard growled, signalling to his colleague. Evidently, Ruby had inadvertently butted her head into the guard’s groin and had knocked the wind out of him. As soon as his colleague took the child from him, he subtly bent over and drew a long breath, trying to overcome the pain.
“What have we got here?” the first guard questioned ominously, holding Ruby’s arm tightly, shining the torch into her face.
Ruby struggled impotently, trying to break free. The man towered above her.
“What’s a little abbo doing, hanging around a university campus?” he barked, ignoring her attempts at punching his hand free.
“Looks to me like we’ve got a bit of thieving going on, Russ,” his colleague wheezed, nodding toward the fallen violin on the ground.
The guard named Russ, who was holding Ruby, shone his torch over the instrument then back at her. He leaned down.
“Is that right?” Russ ventured malevolently. “Now why would you be wanting to steal a fiddle from the school, huh? Got someone who can sell it? Were you planning on making a little money for yourself?”
Ruby flinched at the pungent smell of garlic on Russ’s breath. She pulled away from the guard as hard as she could. But it was no use.
“It’s mine!” she spat angrily, catching both guards by surprise.
The second guard walked gingerly over to the fallen instrument and bent down to pick it up.
“Yeah—I call bullshit,” Russ dismissed. “Looks to me like one of the instruments from inside.”
Turning the violin over in his hands, the guard’s eyes wandered over it to the fallen case and the bow nearby.
“What would you know about playing a fiddle?”
“I think we better call the police, Mick,” Russ declared, clearly trying to frighten his young captive further. “Let them deal with it.”
Ruby eyes bulged. Her breath caught in her throat.
“I didn’t steal anything!” she protested angrily. “That violin belongs to me!”
Both guards eyeballed her dispassionately.
“You’ll have to do better than that,” Russ dismissed her. He nodded to his colleague, Mick.
Mick nodded back and together, the two men dragged Ruby from her hiding place.
Chapter 12
The security guards marched Ruby into the Conservatory building, ignoring her screaming protestations, scratching and kicking. She did everything she could to break free of them until they entered into Elder Hall itself. Ruby fell quiet, realising that this was the first time she’d actually been inside. And it was a most beautiful building at that, with high, ornate ceilings and grand arches. Ruby was simultaneously afraid and captivated.
Her momentary reverence passed and she struggled in the grip of the security guard, kicking angrily at his ankles as he strode through a hallway, holding her in one hand and the violin in the other, ignoring her. His counterpart walked a few steps behind, barely concealing a smirk.
The guards entered into a small office where Ruby was deposited into a chair. Her captor immediately turned to whisper something to his colleague and he picked up the receiver of a telephone on a messy desk beside him.
The significance of what was was happening didn’t register with Ruby because the sound of the string quartet rehearsing floated clearly and voluminously through a window that looked out onto the hall’s auditorium. Turning cautiously in her seat, Ruby peeked around and for the first time could actually see not only the auditorium—which she had only been able to imagine until now—but the very quartet that she had listened to and performed alongside for so long from her hiding place outside.
She was captivated.
At the bottom of the auditorium, four stately women of the string quartet sat and stood in the middle of the stage performing a light and breezy sonata. An audience composed of students and teachers sat randomly around them, both on the stage and in the first few rows of sumptuous, plush red seating, watching in respectful silence. The quartet held them enthralled.
Ruby noticed an elderly man pacing back and forth around the perimeter of the quartet, listening intently, bobbing his head at particular junctures of the piece. He held out a hand, waving it subtly in the air, keeping time with the music. Ruby frowned curiously as he removed a pair of gold rimmed glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. Then he dragged the hand upward through his thick, curly hair that looked wild and frizzy. The delicate way he moved his fingers through the air seemed at odds with his masculine arms. And though his frame was diminutive, the presence he commanded from the audience and the quartet was all-consuming. Figuratively at least, he towered above everyone else in the room.
From a distant corner of her mind, the voice of Sir Walter echoed.
‘That which you seek may be closer than you think…’
Suddenly, the guard named Russ spun Ruby’s swivel chair around and he leaned in close.
“Now! I’m gonna give you once last chance. Tell me your name and the real reason why you stole the fiddle. Otherwise I will call the police”
Ruby quivered in her seat. Her eyes flicked between Russ and her violin which lay on the desk beside them both.
“No answer then?” he barked.
Ruby’s expression hardened.
“That is my violin!” she shouted defiantly. “I didn’t steal nothing!”
The second guard, Mick, grunted, trying not to laugh, causing Russ to look over his shoulder incredulously.
“Are you right there?” he asked angrily, before pointing at the telephone. “Get on the blower, will ya? Get a copper out here now.”
Ruby unexpectedly stood up on the seat and squealed.
“NO!!” she bellowed. “No one is going to take my violin from me!”
Her outburst drew the attention of the audience in the auditorium including the elderly man, all of whom turned in the direction of the office.
Without warning, Ruby leaped to the floor, making a beeline for her violin. Snatching it up from the desk she whirled around as both security guards scrambled after her.
Ruby dropped and scurried through Russ’ legs before spying the exit. She sprang to her feet and prepared to escape.
Just when she thought she was home free, a thick hand slapped down on her shoulder, wrenching her back as Russ captured her once more.
The violin went flying and clattered to the floor.
Ruby willed herself into a frenzy, slapping and kicking at her captor, screaming at the top of her lungs. She no longer cared who heard her. The quartet stopped playing this time, and everyone looked in the direction of the office.
Russ was having no more of this little shit.
“Mick! Get on that bloody phone will ya!”
Restraining Ruby in a powerful hold, securing her arms behind her, Russ prepared to march her from the office.
In the auditorium, the man scowled incredulously and marched up the aisle toward the office just as the guard emerged from inside.
“Could you kindly refrain from this inconsiderate racket!” he shouted in a heavy accent.
Russ regarded the man with contempt and shoved Ruby out in front of him. Mick, who was holding the receiver to his ear, had to block out his colleague’s exchange with the new arrival.
“What is the meaning of this?!” the man demanded, glancing fleetingly at Ruby before fixing his glare
on the guard.
“Nothing you need to worry about Mr. Khalili,” Russ grumbled. “Just a little thief that we’ve gotta deal with. You can go back to your musicians.”
The sarcastic inflection Russ added to ‘musicians’ was enough to make the man named Khalili bristle. His jaw set hard and he ground his teeth together.
“Nothing to worry about?” Khalili echoed incredulously. “You bluster your way into my auditorium in the middle of an important rehearsal, making all sorts of racket and you expect me to ignore it?”
Mick blushed sympathetically as his colleague brushed past Khalili and began marching down the hall.
Gathering up the violin, case and bow, Mick sidled past Khalili and hurried after his colleague, turning back briefly to apologise.
Khalili shook his head, bewildered by the rudeness of the brutish pair, the former of the two continuing to struggle with the child in his grip.
Shaking his head, Khalili turned back to the auditorium where a low murmur was rippling through the audience. He prepared to step forward when an almost involuntary expression of confusion creased his brow. All at once, he stiffened and gasped.
As the guards prepared to disappear around a corner, Khalili’s voice boomed down the hall.
“STOP!”
Both guards reacted, skidding to a halt in the middle of the hallway. Ruby stopped struggling and went limp.
They turned as Khalili rushed toward them, the hard soles of his shoes clip-clopping noisily on the polished floor.
He stopped before Mick, his bespectacled eyes focused not on Mick’s face but on the contents he held in his arms.
“Let me see that violin,” he ordered, holding out his hands.
The confused Mick relented, clumsily offering the violin to Khalili who plucked it from him.
Khalili stepped back and held the instrument gently in his hands, turning it over, inspecting it with a practised eye. The expression on his face slowly began to dissolve—first into one of dawning realisation and then utter amazement. A beatific smile spread across his lips, as though he had discovered a precious jewel.
He looked over at the child.
“Where did this come from?” he quizzed Ruby with an almost child-like wonderment.
Ruby hesitated and actually withdrew behind Russ’s leg.
Khalili waved at the guard and clicked his fingers.
“Let her go, let her go,” he whispered sharply.
“Professor…” Russ protested.
“Do it!” Khalili snapped angrily.
His grip on Ruby’s hand slackened and he released her. In that moment, she flirted with the opportunity of bolting once more, but something in the man’s vivid green eyes told her to wait.
She rubbed at her sore wrists.
Professor Khalili returned his attention to Ruby and nodded.
“Go on,” he said, the level of tension in his voice dropping.
Ruby gulped softly and looked directly at the professor for the first time.
“It was my nana’s,” she whispered croakily. “She gave it to me.”
Ruby pointed up at Mick and the case he held.
“Her name is Delfey. It’s on the label inside the case.”
Mick prepared to open the case but Khalili shook his head silently.
“Whatever on Earth were you doing that caused you to come to the attention of these…guards?”
Khalili took fleeting pleasure in adding his own sarcastic inflection to the word ‘guards.’
Ruby fidgeted, unable or perhaps unwilling to speak.
“We found her outside…in the fore court,” Mick offered gingerly.
Khalili flashed him an angry glower, making it clear that he expected Ruby to answer.
Turning back to Ruby, Khalili nodded expectantly.
“Well?”
Ruby jumped. The man’s voice cut through her like a knife.
“I…I was playing,” she responded. “Rehearsing.”
Both Russ and Mick slowly turned and stared incredulously at her.
“Playing?” Khalili echoed quizzically.
“Look, can we drop the Q and A session?” Russ barked angrily. “The police will be here shortly.”
“This child will not be going anywhere,” Khalili shot back instantly, glaring at the security guard over the tops of his spectacles.
Before Russ could protest, Khalili stepped toward him. He held out the violin, turning it over in his hands and pointed to a small plaque positioned high upon the back side of the body, near the neck.
“See that? It’s a maker’s mark—for a Vrassidaun violin. This instrument was made in Austria and…”
“But we…” Russ cut in with increasing annoyance.
Khalili’s hand shot up between them, commanding immediate silence. Ruby shuddered, trying to make sense of what was happening. Unbeknown to them, several people in the auditorium had filtered into the hall to find out what all the fuss was about.
Khalili continued.
“…And there has not been a Vrassidaun produced anywhere in the world in over one hundred years.”
“Meaning what?” the guard questioned dismissively.
“Meaning that this child could not have possibly stolen this instrument from this school or any other school. The violin is a rarity. She speaks the truth.”
For the first time Russ was completely flummoxed.
Khalili turned his head toward Mick.
“Call off the police now. They will not be required.”
Khalili signalled to Mick to hand over the violin case and bow while he snatched Ruby’s school back pack from Russ.
He looked directly at Ruby and motioned with a clinical snap of his head.
“You will come with me at once,” he ordered, before adding an uncharacteristically mischievous wink.
Ruby felt her frail heart tumble over inside her chest and she slowly stepped away from her captors. She wanted to run. She wanted to stay right here in the hall. She wanted to follow.
Khalili turned and marched from the security guards, forcing Ruby into making a decision—an almost involuntary decision.
She followed.
She had to run to catch up with the professor but she fell in behind him as she entered the auditorium. Almost immediately, Ruby gasped, stopping at the top of the aisle where she faced not only the audience but also the string quartet, all of whom were staring at her.
Khalili signalled to the members of the quartet.
“I apologise ladies. Kindly take a moment longer and we will resume shortly.”
Khalili turned and gestured to Ruby who was trying to take in the environment she now found herself in. The huge, ornate hardwood beams supporting the roof above her seemed to hang in defiance of gravity, curving over her head like silent leviathans. Arched windows, high up on the white walls on either side of her cast ethereal light into the hall from outside, melding with the glow of the lights hanging down from the rafters. The stage stretched across the breadth of the building and was dominated by the pipes of a massive organ that watched over it like soldiers standing in formation.
She could barely comprehend this world within a world and she stepped reverentially down the aisle toward the stage, her mouth agape, her neck twisting upward and around her in wonderment, while the eyes of those around her watched her as she approached the stage.
Khalili ushered Ruby up some steps and over to a quiet corner of the stage where he pulled together a pair of chairs and motioned for her to sit down. He sat before her and rested the violin in his his lap, placing both hands on its polished surface.
“Now,” he began curtly. “May I ask your name?”
Ruby’s brow furrowed and she shuffled nervously where she sat.
“It’s…Ruby,” she said, so quietly that she, herself could barely hear her own voice.
“Ruby,” the professor echoed melodically. “Ahhh…from the Latin ruber meaning ‘red.’ You were born in the month of July, yes?”
Ru
by blinked in surprise and the professor smiled knowingly.
“How did you guess that?” she blurted reflexively.
Khalili shrugged his shoulders with a hint of mischief as he turned the violin over in his hands, inspecting it closely.
“The precious stone ruby is the birth stone for the month of July in our Gregorian calendar. It is an—appropriate—name for a child born in that month.”
Ruby was struck by the professor’s explanation and sat awkwardly on the edge of the chair.
“So…you can play this instrument?” Khalili ventured, swiftly changing the subject. “How long have you been playing?”
“Since I was four,” Ruby answered. “…Four years.”
Khalili raised one of his eye brows and nodded.
“Interesting…” he mused. “And who is your teacher?”
“My nana teaches me. We practise every day.”
“Ohhh,” Khalili said with a lengthiness to his ‘ohhh’ that Ruby found grating. She sat up straighter in her chair and jutted her chin forward.
Khalili patted the violin softly.
“The Vrassidaun violin was hand crafted, you know—in a little village high in the Austrian Alps near the border with Germany. The Vrassidaun family produced only a few of these instruments each year, from a type of maple that grew sparsely on the mountain tops.”
The professor was becoming increasingly animated now, which made Ruby uneasy. He continued.
“It has been said that, unlike the Stradivari, the Vrassidaun timber required no additional preservatives, no chemicals. So dense and so unique is this wood that these violins produce a sound that is quite unlike any other. It has an unmatched purity.”
Khalili leaned forward in his seat, his green eyes alive and larger than any eyes Ruby had ever seen.
“Do you know that there may only be a dozen of these Vrassidaun violins left in existence?”
Ruby didn’t respond. She was unsure of what to say or do.
Khalili studied Ruby quizzically through the scratched lenses of his spectacles, his curious smile giving little away.
“Do you expect me to believe that you can play a Vrassidaun after only four years of tuition?”
Ruby’s expression flickered between confusion and annoyance—evidently, she was unfamiliar with the word tuition—but she felt an indignant twang in her stomach and she arched her shoulders back accordingly.